A Mask and a Mind
by Elerick
Summary: A master of fear, a weaver of riddles, and intimate moments between them. A collection of slash stories too small or simple on their own. More to come. Ratings and themes will vary.


Dirty Talk

Characters: Scarecrow, Riddler

Warnings: Sex, PWP

Summery: Edward can't stand the silence any longer.

Author's notes: This was written when my teachers thought I was writing notes in class, so the process was fragmented and over an extended time and that shows.

This is also an experiment on my own part. Want too much information? I'm not good at talking during intimate times and I came to notice there isn't a lot of conversation going on in my fics during those situations either. So I set out with the soul purpose to make someone talk during sex, this is what you get. Its a subject that's out of my comfort zone in writing and reality.

But my beta reader Gatoishwary on deviantart, (go check here out after you read this) said it was still hot so I'm posting it, enjoy. There are more stories to come. Working on them as you read.

"Jonathan…"

Edward's words echoed off the decrepit walls of their tiny, shared shit hole of an apartment in downtown Gotham. Any sound he gave was painfully obvious in the silence hanging around them, he might as well be talking to the ceiling

How could he feel so alone and neglected when he was so far from either. Jonathan Crane was with him, in the physical and biblical sense of the word. Thin arms were locked around his waist with a strong, possessive sense of ownership one could almost consider care. Sharp teeth were sunk deep into the naked skin of his shoulder. That, it seemed, was one the few kinks the Scarecrow carried with him, outside of his day job, of course. He liked to bite, to scratch, to drag his nails down the smaller man's back and chest, anything to leave a mark. Edward didn't mind, deep in some devious part of his mind he enjoyed the gentle pain, the way it brought all of his nerves to the surface to experience the pleasure of a hot tongue and soft breath that always followed. He was thankful Jon had yet to use his psycho-babble to relate the attraction of pain to something in his past or with his parents. That wasn't it at all!

It was trust that made it so intimate; trust that such a dangerous man would walk that thin line with him… or was it control…

"Mph, God I love it when you do that." Edward leaned back with a sigh, exposing himself to the pleasant torture.

Perched in Jonathan's lap like he owned the place; he rutted against him like a hormonal teenager, impatient as always. The action brought an enjoyable friction between them. The heat of skin against skin, clothes discarded long ago, was beginning to build, even in the chill of Gotham's evening.

And Jonathan had yet to say a word.

The Riddler would have rolled his eyes if he was a less dignified man. He really should be used to this by now.

It wasn't their first time, not even close. Months of sharing a cell at Arkham had provided plenty of opportunities. Back then they had to be quiet, unless they wanted the guards and every villain in the Asylum giving them unwanted looks. It was just short of torture, his lips bled from the abuse of being trapped between his teeth, desperately muffling the sounds that Scarecrow dragged out of him. Even his great mind couldn't have predicted the unholy way they matched each other in just the right ways. Jonathan wanted to control, to draw out fear, Edward allowed him the illusion of dominance; he got exactly what he wanted in return. He savored the rough treatment and not knowing what tactic he would 'experiment' with next. But what he loved the most was the attention, it was always there, sharp eyes that seemed to glow in the dimest lights, and always on him. They analyzed his every reaction, scanning his form down to the last inch. Just the idea made his head spin and his body burn in ways he'd never found with anyone else.

And when they managed a successful escape together, that burning rose to his chest when Jonathan agreed to stay with him on the outside. At the time he couldn't have been happier.

But... that's when the problems began.

It had been assumed that the silence he had to endure was only in the presence of the rest rogue's gallery, but it seemed that was simply how Jonathan Crane participated in intercourse. He was completely mute, not a word, not a moan, not even the rush of heavy breathing.

Edward, however, was highly verbal. He had to squeak and moan and groan and shout. That was one of the reasons he had been glad to be rid of the funny farm in the first place. Most of all he loved to communicate, talk dirty, sing sweet nothings. But one person talking in silence was awkward enough; it was down right embarrassing during sex.

Edward was never one to be denied what he wanted, Jon must have some trigger that got him talking and he was going to find it...

Hands ghosted their way between his thighs, causing him to shudder. When he wasn't being rough Jon managed to just barely touch him, and at the same time touch him everywhere

"I didn't know physical examinations came with a psychiatry degree, professor."

No reaction, not even a raised eyebrow, which he was in full right to do. Edward hated playing coy anyway.

A thin finger pressed against his entrance, lingering for a cautionary second of warning before forcing its way inside. Edward let out the smallest whimper of pain at the sudden intrusion but soon let out another for more when the second digit worked its way in. Seeking contact he pressed back against his willing trespassers, searching for that spot that Jon would always deny him until he saw fit. Fine, let him believe he was still in control, it wouldn't last long.

"Do you want me Jon?" he breathed more then spoke, a purr rolling through his voice.

No answer...

"I know I want you." It was difficult to keeps ones voice as sultry as his when it came to flirting with a concrete wall that was moving around inside you. Leaning in close to his ear he made his breath as wet as it could possibly be as he whispered. "I want you to to do everything to me."

Edward let out a yip when his lover brushed against that sweet spot with methodical fingers, probably an attempt to get him to shut up.

Damn it all, he thought to himself as he crumbled against his partner, shaking with the first few sparks of pleasure of what was to come. He should be enjoying it, hell he should be thankful Jonathan Crane had enough personality left in him to even what to have sex, and that he'd chosen him. That in itself was a testament to their shared good tastes. Still the fact that he couldn't unlock that mouth of his was itching at the back of his brain. He hated to loose more than he cared for sex.

Not that Jonathan would care if he told him, just comment about his personal battle with his own inadequacy or something like that. That's all Jon did care about, analyzing everything and finding new techniques to scare people.

Wait...

Why hadn't he thought of that before? Obviously it had been far to simple for his mind to even consider.

"Jonathan..." he kept his voice just low enough so the other would have to strain to hear him. "Scarecrow."

A noticeable twitch, an animal perking its ears. That got his attention.

"You send chills down my spine."

He was almost cut off by nails sinking into his arms. Jonathan's body was straining against something, causing him to put pressure on the victim he currently had under his fingers. Edward let out a gasp, filling his lungs with air, how close it was to the sound of fright. He knew that fact was sitting heavily on the other's mind.

"Edward..." the words sounded haunted, like a warning, but it was almost drowned out by the heaviness of lust.

The Riddler couldn't hold back a smirk, another puzzled unraveled by his hand and now he was going to reap the benefits. Facing him he shared breath with his fellow rogue.

"Frighten me, you know how."

The next thing he was aware of, perhaps he'd passed out for a moment, was the silk sheets he'd personally picked out for their shared bed, his face was planted into them, hard. He attempted to look back, make sense of what was going on, to find a surprisingly strong pressure on his shoulder. Heat washed over his face and flowed downward when he came to the realization that he'd been forced on his knees. A shiver came over him at the sudden air passing over his exposed ass.

"Jonathan?"

"Scarecrow."

Ah yes, role-play, must keep in character and all that. But it seemed he wasn't going to be participating in any sexual banter just yet. Anything he could have come up with was cut off with a shrill yell. Behind him, fingers bruising his hips, Jonathan had already plunged deep inside him.

Edward clenched the sheets as he adjusted to the sudden invasion. He'd been prepared but still... he would have appreciated a little warning...

Well he did ask for it, and his body was eager to remind him it was what he wanted.

"Sc-Scarecrow." his cry was caught in his throat, he could feel him moving inside, pushing past the muscles inch by inch. "G... God."

"Who's your God?"

Jonathan's voice was grating, like metal wheels over gravel, different from his usual analytical monotone. Where had this side of him been hiding?

"Y-you are..." it was hard to talk with his face against the sheets, and it didn't get any easier with a sudden sharp thrust shaking his body all the way down to his toes.

"Who is?" Scarecrow demanded.

"Yo-You are!" his response was nearly screamed, to his own embarrassment "God of fear..."

A twist of his hips and Jon sent Edward riving under him. If those long fingers hadn't sunk themselves so hard into his sides they might have lost contact.

"That's right." His captor growled against his back, each world emphasized with a plunge deep inside him. Sharp pain accompanied each spark of pleasure. Jon had never pounded into him with such force before; it seemed he'd abandoned any concerns for his lover's condition.

And his condition was depleting by the second. His hands ached from gripping the sheets, his legs shuddered under him, barely able to provide support. The extent of his shouting filled the room with sound above him and coated the sheets with a mixture of cold saliva and hot sweat below. And he loved it.

A haunting murmur came from above as their bodies stilled, leaving the smaller man to whine helplessly under him. "Are you scarred, my little lab mouse?"

Of Jonathan? Perhaps. Of his own lustful abandon? Very.

"Y-yes..." was all he could manage to answer.

"Louder!" the demand was accompanied with a hard buck of his hips.

"YES!" he could hear his own voice begin to grow horse. "Y-yes, terrified!"

The words were muffled by the sheets and they only came out as garbled howls, but must have been something else, the tone or the way he said it, that Jon cared about, something that he liked. He began to move, working their bodies together harder then before. Scarecrow pounded into him with no rhyme or reason to his rhythm He was like some animal, or perhaps demon might be a better word. With nails sinking into his hips and the wet threats whispered along is arched spine he didn't know a better word for him.

But his endurance was waring thinner by the second. Knees were grinding painfully into the sheets, the only reason he was still upright was the fact that they had locked up, strained muscles ready to give out at any second. His arms shook weakly with each erratic thrust. His back was curved with the stain of pure bliss that wouldn't allow him to relax, just work toward the base need to somehow keep Jon hitting just the right spot. All the pressure was going to his head; he had to fight to keep enough sense not to suffocate in the sheets. Whatever babble was coming out of his mouth was drowned out by the pounding of blood in his ears as it rushed to his nether regions.

One way or another he wouldn't last much longer.

To either his dread or relief, Jonathan took notice. Edward let out a pathetic wail when long fingers wrapped themselves around his neglected member that even he'd nearly forgotten about.

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down..."

Why was it the first time he'd managed to get the man to talk to him in the bedroom he couldn't even bring himself together enough to answer?

"Beg for it." the world was so quiet he almost didn't hear them over the frantic panting of his own breath. How did Jon manage to keep such control?

"Hhmmghhh!" Would if I could Spooky, he thought to himself. However Crane knew his body well, with one strike inside him in just the right spot Edward's head shot up with a desperate gasp.

"T-Touch me!" he managed to breath more then speak. "P-please!"

A purely evil cackle filled the air and he wondered if he'd be trapped in this whirl wind of lust without release forever.

But Crane must have had a soft spot somewhere for him because the still hand clenched dangerously around his most sensitive area began to pump with vigor.

"Shit!" he cursed in his head and maybe out loud The organ was so swollen and hot it took an insultingly short time before a shaken moan floated up from the sheets. At what time in their relationship had Jonathan stolen his pride and turned him into a beggar? Around the time he stop caring. When he came, every available muscle went taunt until he thought he might break. The sudden stress caused him clamp down hard on his invader, who let out a breath that rolled into a growl against the back of his neck. It was hot and wet on his skin, followed by more heat so deep down inside that shook him from his fingers to is toes.

There was a rush air that whipped over naked, sweat drenched skin when, in tandem, they collapsed to the mattress For a few hazy moments there was no logic to the world, the only things he could hear was the sound two notes of tired breath, mingling interments in a lonely symphony, and the only thing he could feel was the warmth of his companion in the emptiness. There were no riddles, no fear, no batman, no Gotham. It was perfect.

He didn't expect Jonathan to say anything; he rarely did before, during or after their activities. Before Edward was even able to get his limbs to take so much as a suggestion from his brain the other man was already pushing himself to his feet. Honestly it was amazing, spindly as he was, even taking charge of their activities, he still managed to be the first to get up. Though he imagined it was more a social need for isolation then physical prowess.

The Riddler managed to turn his head to watch him leave and took smug solace in the fact that his partner stumbled as soon as he put any weight on his legs.

"Hope I didn't wear you out." his voice was dry and hoarse but that didn't stop him from smiling.

Jonathan mumbled something akin to "Shut up" under his breath, placing a hand on the mattress to steady himself.

Edward didn't look any better, barely able to even turn himself onto his back, depending on the lacking support of shaking elbows, just to look his lover in the eye.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked with a weary grin.

He responded with a huff, using all the strength he had left to walk out of the room. Still, he managed to pause at the doorway, the other looking on curiously.

"Edward." he didn't turn to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Don't ever do that again."

He let out a sigh, "Alright, Jon..."

"You're lying."

The man knew him all too well. Even though he wasn't looking at him Edward beamed a smile at him. "You're right."

"Good."

And he gone, but Edward knew him too. Jonathan wouldn't be able to stay way for very long.


End file.
